Friends And Enemies
by TerraZeal
Summary: A young orc hunter watches an old human sob over the grave of General Nazgrim, hero of the Horde. Taylor/Nazgrim friendship fic. NO OCs!


_**AN: **A young orc hunter wonders why an old human leaves flowers at General Nazgrim's grave every month. Angsty Admiral Taylor. Future Fic. AU. Fifteenish years after Siege. Orc hunter is NOT OC except in personality, since I have no idea how he will be when he's around fifteen. No, the timeline of this AU does not line up with the timeline from my Sylvanas death AU. So don't compare them!_

_**Friends and Enemies**_

The young orc had been watching the human for months now. He was tall, once hearty and hale, now older, but still strong. His blonde hair was greying. His grey eyes were sad, as always. Tears would sometimes stream down that lined face.

Other times he would just scream and kick at the dirt, as if that would somehow bring the person within back. Other times he would talk to the grave. Demand answers. Ask him why. Why what? The young orc had no idea.

His pet worg gave a soft growl. The orc shushed her with a glare. She whimpered and sank to the dirt, hiding her face in her paws. The human was kneeling over the grave now. Tears this time. The element of water. _Why does he cry, oh great elements? _Hunter or not, he could still talk to the elements. His parents had told him it was an innate ability. Whatever that meant.

_His business is his own, little shaman. If you wonder so much, why not...ask him? Are you afraid of humans? Your father wasn't. Isn't. Humans are just as varied as orcs. _The element of water chuckled. The hunter felt a cool wave of comfort, as he always did when confronted with the element of water. Ask him, water said? That would be intruding, wouldn't it?

Still...if water said it was okay...and water was the most stable of all the elements...

Admiral Taylor, no longer Admiral, just a retired soldier now, knelt before the grave of his hated enemy. The loathed monster that had brought destruction to his people and the pandaren. The grave of his...his...best friend.

Tears streamed down his face. _Why? It should have been me. We made a promise, damn you. We promised! I hate you! _He snarled and dug furrows in the grave dirt, pleading with Nazgrim to at least answer. To at least give him back an _I hate you, too_ not the silence. Anything but silence. A soft cough made Taylor jump and almost trip over another grave, this one larger, and unmarked.

Taylor looked up. A young orc hunter, Mag'har by the look of his dark brown skin. Tall for his age, thin but muscled arms like most hunters have, ocean blue eyes, a bow in hand, an orange worg at his side...a young orc hunter. Taylor relaxed. If he had to, he could take care of this youngling.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Taylor's voice was still thick with tears and anger.

"I...I was just...wondering. Why? Why do you cry and scream at the grave of an orc? I thought humans still hated us. I heard...that is, my father told me, General Nazgrim was a hero of the Horde. He died an honorable death. There is nothing to be sad about." The young orc's mouth was open in a question.

Taylor thought for a moment. "It should have been me." He answered after awhile. "We promised, in a far away land. We would be the ones to kill the other. We wouldn't outlive each other. I promised him I would kill him. I hated him. He was a monster. He was my best friend." Water streamed down his lined face once again.

Soothing coolness streamed through the air, drying Taylor's tears. The element of Wind. Taylor wiped absently at his tears, wondering why he was telling ANYTHING at all to this silly orc hunter. "Why are you out here anyway?"

"I've been watching you for months. Every day on a certain month, you come here. Sometimes, it's fire. Sometimes, it's water. You always call them. The elements. They come when you call. Why don't you call the Wilds? You might get a chance to talk to him. Your enemy. Your best friend." The hunter sounded far too wise for his young age.

Admiral Taylor glanced at him in astonishment. "You can hear the elements? I hear nothing. Hunters can't hear the elements. Hunters aren't shaman. Unless you're a shadow hunter, but then you work with the loa..." Taylor trailed off. Perhaps this young orc WAS being trained by Vol'jin to be a shadow hunter. It would explain his easy connection to the dead.

"No. They talk to me. I don't ask them anything. If I do something wrong, they tell me. If I do something right, I get rewarded. Uncle Vol'jin isn't teaching me to be a shadow hunter. He tried. I wanted to. But the elements wouldn't let me. The loa refused to work with me after the elements threatened them." The young orc sounded annoyed. Taylor almost laughed.

The orc continued. "Why don't you try? Ask. Ask the Spirit of the Wilds. Maybe they'll let you talk to him. One last time. The elements can't and won't bring the dead to life again, but maybe...you can talk to him."

Taylor considered this. He had no truck with the elements. No humans did. Maybe...maybe it was time they should. Would the elements accept humans? _I'm no shaman, but I humbly ask to speak with you, air, wind, earth, fire...lords of the elements. I plead with you._ Taylor felt a tingle slide up his spine.

_All you needed to do was ask, Taylor. The elements do not play favorites. Any who humble themselves before us may speak to us...me. We know what you ask. We can grant your request for a short time. A short time only. _The voice of the elements faded.

Green, familiar (to the hunter) light illuminated the grave. It was swirling twist of humans, orcs, elves, even a similar spiral, separate but connected, to the green wave. Taylor did recognize the gleaming golden spiral. It was the Light.

The Light the Highlord commanded, after being de-Death Knighted, or whatever it was. A similar thing had happened to one of the three High Rangers of Burning Crusade. Lady Alleria, the one with the fierce, but pained blue silver eyes, had been tortured by demons for years, her husband murdered right in front of her by Kil'jaeden himself.

Lady Vereesa, her eyes also blue, but sky blue, and tinged with sadness, had lost her husband, and her children. Husband to a monstrous orc enemy, children to the same demon that took Alleria's husband. Someone had been stupid enough to call the Deceiver back, and he came with relish.

Lady Sylvanas, both Queen of Lordaeron and a Burning Ranger, had been a Banshee. She had fallen into the Light, and came out as beautiful as any high elf lady. Her eyes sometimes flared crimson and betrayed the loss and bitterness she still felt. Her own husband, a handsome young ranger/king named Nathaniel, was human, but his own eyes also carried the same bitterness and hate that Sylvanas sometimes showed. The pain of death and torture not long forgotten.

Taylor hesitantly leaned closer to the green spiral. "General? Nazgrim? Please grant your hated enemy an audience. So I can tell you, again, just how much I hate you. I hate you! Show yourself!" He pounded the ground, screaming.

The hunter himself gazed into the spiral. The faces of the rest of his family gazed back. His great and mighty orc grandparents, a powerful elderly female shaman from his old homeland who was his great grandmother, a long line of ancestors long past, and his long-dead aunt that he had never met. A laughing human teenage girl with flowing golden locks. She looked so loving, so kind. He wished he could talk to her, but he would never ask for anything for himself.

_You are not selfish, little hunter, never selfish. We know you. We bow to you, as we bow to your father. For once, the elements can be commanded, by your family only, child. But don't get too cocky or your father will be angry. _

"Should the chance ever arrive, I want to talk to her." He pointed to the human teenager with the sky-blue eyes so like his own, the hair like spun gold, beauty, he could see it, even in a human. "My aunt."

_She is one of our favorites. She makes us laugh, even the fire elementals, who so rarely show emotions at anything. The time will come, and you will meet her. _He felt the touch of the elements recede from himself.

He looked back at the human. Taylor was speaking to a misty green form, talking, _laughing_, with this 'enemy'. The hunter turned his back and retreated to the unmarked grave a bit away from Taylor, he wanted the man to have some privacy.

The orc gazed at the unmarked, or so he had thought, rock. It was merely dusty, not unmarked. No one had cleaned the grave since it had been put here. The hunter took thin linen cloth from his bag and called upon water. The linen immediately soaked.

He had felt the power of water flowing through his hands. It was wonderful, the connection, but he desired to be a hunter, and both parents approved. Maybe because they knew the elements would watch him anyway, protect him. Child of elements.

He scrubbed at the dirty grave. It was hard to get off, it was almost like a thick layer of dirty. _Earth, can you help? I cannot clean something covered in what feels like cement! _He mentally stuck out his tongue at Earth. The element chuckled in his head and the cement-like dirt loosened and fell into the red soil at his feet, re-attaching itself to its rightful place.

He used another linen cloth and called upon water again to help. She (Water's voice was always female) promised this time that she had made the water extra warm, to help with Earth's earlier lack of help. The hunter almost snorted.

The elements, for all their kindness and companionship, got along like cats and dogs. Or orcs and humans. Maybe not. He glanced over at Taylor. The shiny water was still in his eyes, but a smile crossed his lined face. _Enemies? Maybe in another universe! _He chortled and continue wiping at the rock.

His wiping finally unearthed the writing underneath. He gasped, he noticed Taylor turn to him questioningly, the orc shook his head, motion for Taylor to talk to Nazgrim. He made a motion that was almost universally accepted as 'limited time left' and turned back to the startling massive grave.

What he thought was mounds of dirt, after Earth had cleared them, he could now see the entire thing clearly. Massive tusks, larger than his bed, and his parents bed combined. A single tusk could penetrate the walls of Orgrimmar. Still, they'd been cut at points, as if someone had wanted to use them as pauldrons.

The orcling leaned forward, examining the name, if it were possible, his face would have been white with fear. As it was, he was almost sick. He felt soothing waves of heat in his heart and calming bubbles clearing his head. The elements, oh how he thanked them daily for their unasked for aid!

_Here Lies Garrosh Hellscream_

_Son of Grom_

_Enemy of Azeroth_

_Warchief of the Horde_

A smaller inscription below it said, in Common, _'the mightiest fall the hardest. rest well, my enemy.'. _There was a human name under it, a human had scratched that inscription. All it said was 'Wrynn' no other name. Queen Calia Wrynn? High priest Anduin? No, they wouldn't call Garrosh a personal enemy. It had to be the ages dead king, Varian Wrynn. _Humans and orcs. Hah. They do all seem to have this frenemy relationship going on! _

He ran his own hand over the grave. With hesitation and reservation, he called upon fire to light his arrow tip. The hunter carved his own inscription for the enemy of Orgrimmar, beneath the others.

_'Father said you were a mighty hero at first, but became an insane monster in the end. I don't know about that, but I know that I would have liked to meet the hero. Where ever you are now, may you have peace at last.' _He signed his own name and stood.

He had no idea if it were proper, but the elements seemed to think it was okay. As did his own powers, the powers of a hunter. Once lit, the poison on the arrow tips kept it burning until he was finished. He realized that the spirit of water had been flowing down his face. He swiped at the tears, wondering why he cried for a monster he never met. A monster who had tried to have his parents and Uncle Vol'jin killed.

_You weep for family you never knew. He was your uncle just a much as Vol'jin is. _It was the soothing, calm voice of water. She always had a kind voice, a voice that sounded like music. _He would have loved you, too. Any one who meets you loves you. _Her own calm voice indicated the truth, and her own affection for him. They called him Child of the Elements. He always laughed at that. The elemental lords only ever had children, and they had all gone.

Ragnaros, killed on his own plane of fire, Neptulon, slaughtered by the Naga Queen Azshara, Therazane, becoming one with the earth so as a truly join her beloved daughter, Al'akir, once again killed on his own plane. The wilds never had a master. A lord. Until now, they claimed. Lord of all elements, they called their master. They bowed before a master, could be truly commanded by a single Lord at last. The elements were at peace, worked together, united at last. Almost like the Horde and Alliance.

Old racism sometimes still persisted, but for the most part, they were allies, all of them. They traded equally. The ice cold river from the spring within the oasis surrounding Orgrimmar was traded with Stormwind for fresh crops. Lordaeron gave crops and water to all cities. The queen of Lordaeron was actually one of the high elven Burning Crusaders, but her husband was human and a true king who spent time on the throne while his wife was out fighting the Legion.

Life on Azeroth was peaceful, as peaceful as Draenor, which he visited with his parents often. Here was family, he was told. They called up the ancestors each holiday for blessings and to see old friends. The small orc hunter (and, he was certain, his father) could sense that the ancestors were simply great gifts of the elements, given to the tribe of Garadar once a year, on the night when the veil between Azeroth and the Wilds was thinnest.

Taylor finally walked over to where the young orc stood, tears still flowing down his face. "I never even knew, but he was my uncle. Water told me."

Taylor nodded. "Once I told him about you, Nazgrim's face lit up and he told me watch it around you or I might get far more than I bargained for." The old human chuckled. "What is your name, boy? Nazgrim said the blue eyes should be a big hint, but he just laughed and called me stupid when I asked why."

The young orc was puzzled. He was no one important. Why would the long dead hero, General Nazgrim, know him? According to his father, Nazgrim had died close to when he'd just been born.

"I...my name is Durak. I was named after my grandparents..." The young orc, Durak, shook his head. "What does it matter? I never asked your name..."

"No, the elements told you, of course. That's how I guessed, even before Nazgrim told me." Taylor stared at Durak harshly, his eyes tracing sliding over his features, lingering on the brilliant blue eyes.

"Is your father here?" Taylor asked. "It would be nice to talk to someone else who cared just as much about Nazgrim as I did."

Durak smiled. "No, he isn't here right now, he's at our home. We would be delighted to have you over for dinner, father says. An old enemy is just the same as an old friend, he just told me." Durak laughed as the telepathic link from his father ended.

Taylor grinned. It would be such an honor to at long last meet this god-like being who still insisted on living like a mortal. Taylor laughed when they arrived at Durak's home. It wasn't in the city of Orgrimmar, where Warchief Vol'jin ruled from, it was a simple hut with a few additions on the sides and some outdoor stairs (troll-style) leading to an upstairs bedroom.

Durak opened the door and ran in, followed by the orange worg. Durak was agile, but the worg was not. She smashed into a pot plant and somehow knocked over a bamboo table. Durak just rolled his eyes at the worg.

"Father, mother, I've brought our guest I was telling you about!" He ran to them, throwing his arms around them.

Taylor laughed. How he'd longed to meet Nazgrim's true warchief. "Great Lord of the Elements, my name is-"

"Known to me. It is great to see you, Taylor. You do not look as old as you are." He smiled, piercing blue eyes seeming like they were boring into his soul as always.

"You don't look a day older from after the Cataclysm, Great Lord. Nor does your wife. I know what gifts were bestowed upon you all. Your son seems to have inherited them. He is charming, wise, and a great shaman."

Thrall laughed. "Indeed he is. It is good when friends and enemies can at last sit down to dinner with nary a protest."

Thrall and Taylor laughed. Durak smiled. Friends and enemies, eh? He might have to check out Stormwind.

**R/R. It is AU, so don't fault me for 'mistakes' and my grammar isn't great since I'm writing fanfiction, not a novel.**


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